


Reversal

by Townycod13



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, situation swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 07:10:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15791550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Townycod13/pseuds/Townycod13
Summary: Kyle wants nothing more than to escape from the reality he has to live through.





	Reversal

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd by the lovely and kind EleanorC, thank you so much for your time dude ;w;

The truck collided with him at some high speed that was surely inadvisable in such a pedestrian area. That didn’t matter, it was to be expected from his life, and it would have been more surprising if he’d cross the street without such a collision.

He could feel the blinding pain and the breathless free fall of catapulting through the air. He could hear the gasps of his friends,their voices the only things crystal clear to his jarred senses and broken body.

“ _Oh my god_ \--!” There was Stan, shock and horror evident. If one listened closer they could also dissect a subsection of boredom.

It was inevitable, most likely, considering the amount of times this same scene had played out.

“--they killed Kyle!” He finished enraged.

He hit the ground, the familiar feeling of death creeping through him and dragging what could be considered a soul out of his body. In his last moments of breath he could hear Kenny’s muffled cry.

“You bastards!”

A typical day in the life.

\---

He woke up in his bed with his mother brushing away hairs from his forehead, looking haggard. She did this a lot when he came back; it always made him anxiously contemplate how much she _actually_ knew.

He didn’t dare ask her.

“It’s okay, bubbie,” she cooed as he woke up, “it’s past midnight, get some sleep.”

 _She_ was the one who should get some rest. The hours she worked to support their small family were insane. He could see the agonized bags weighing down her entire face.

His mother was in her forties. She shouldn’t have as many gray hairs as she did. She shouldn’t have to work from dawn to dusk to pay the bills.

He didn’t voice any of this.

Sheila Broflovski was as prideful as they came. His concern would only insult her. If she was less prideful, maybe she would reach out for alimony, to help ease the load. She had assured her sons with a painful smile that they didn’t need _his_ money.

Kyle kind of agreed; he certainly didn’t want anything from a bastard who would walk out on his family, complaining about cults and freaks.

What the hell did their little family have to do with cults?

Sheila cupped his face and firmly placed one of those disgustingly damp mom kisses on his forehead. She had something painful swimming in her eyes, and he closed his not to see it.

“It’s okay, bubbie,” she repeated and there was a broken shard to her voice.

Kyle let the sounds of his mothers shaken terror and unconditional affection ease him into the land of dreams.

Within the world inside his mind, there were dark creature perched just out of view purring affectionately at him.

 _You’re ours_ , they would promise in eldritch voices he couldn’t conceive of.

And resolutely, as with the many times he’d heard them before, he swore that no one owned him but himself.

And, of course, the shadow of death. But he would never mention that.

\---

Stan frowned at him. He did that a lot lately.

There weren’t really any excuses he could, or even bothered to, make at this stage of his life. Yes, he’d missed a week of school, and yes, that had also meant he missed no less than three commitments with his best friend.

No, he didn’t have an explanation anyone would listen to, so he wished they wouldn’t ask.

“Where the fuck _were_ you?” Stan said.

Kyle ignored him and pulled out his notebook, reviewing his carefully dictated notes and turning to Wendy Testaburger to request the notes from the classes he’d missed. Terrible attendance or not, he wasn’t going to do badly in school.

He had a goal, and no one was going to stop him.

Stan’s eraser hit the side of his head, and he looked back to the old problem haunting his life for ages now.

Sometimes he wished he was less important to other people. It would probably be easier to deal with if no one missed him when he went; then he could just slink back into the classroom and no one would ask any questions.

He caught the purple of Kenny’s parka out of the corner of his eye and waved him over, hoping a third party would dissuade Stan from continuing down this tired line of questioning.

“Hey, Kyle,” Kenny muffled, trotting up and taking a nearby empty seat. Craig, who normally sat there, flipped them all off as he walked by. “Sup?”

Kyle hadn’t thought that far.

He decided on a generic question.

“Did I miss any homework?”

Kenny shot a look towards Stan, obviously it was normally best friend territory to assist after disappearances, or at least that was what Kenny’s look said.

“No.” The tension between Stan and Kyle was now abundantly apparent, and Kenny was retreating further into his parka and away from the drama. “Don’t get me involved,” he monotoned afterwards.

Kyle could swear that the guy didn’t have a humorous bone in his body, just stoic and taciturn ones.

Always so serious, always so averse to drama, and _always_ so secretive. Kyle had known him his entire life, and he still wasn’t even sure where Kenny _lived_. Sometimes he wondered if McCormick was really his last name, or if it was a carefully put together pseudonym so that no one could learn his real one.

Kenny was a mystery; a frustrating mystery who was of absolutely no assistance with Stan.

The three of them were spared the continued tension as the teacher marched into the room with a glare like no other.

Kyle settled in for another miserable day at school and tried not to despair over the entire unit he’d apparently missed out on.

Another day without change. Another day where he felt the tendrils of insanity beg for him to finally crack under the pressure.

He absolutely refused to give it the fucking satisfaction.

\---

Tales of Zaron

Chapter 1: The Bereft

_The sun beat mercilessly down the trail. There were no forests or even the faintest sign of a tree. Water was left miles back._

_Survival would be questionable at best, and this wasn’t the best of circumstances._

_“Come on, you can’t give up on me.”_

_It was touching how the knight thought mere words could stop the ending of a life._

_The march pressed onwards._

_The staff had to make it to its destination, no matter how many lives were lost in the process._

\---

“I’m telling you, he disappears to go to secret Jew conventions where they plan how they’re going to ruin the world.”

“Golly… I didn’t think Kyle was the sort to do that, but it does make sense, now that you mention it.”

“He’s not going to --Cartman, just shut the fuck up-- I’m just pissed he won’t tell me what the fuck is up.”

“He won’t _tell_ you because he’s a scheming je--”

“Cartman, I swear to god--”

A figure settled next to him, and Kyle nearly jumped out of his skin, only barely avoiding dropping his trembling lunch.

“Not going in?” Kenny’s familiar muffle asked.

Kyle looked back to the unfolding argument, which ranged from painful to rage inducing, before shaking his head firmly.

Kenny nodded in understanding and took hold of his upper arm firmly, “Follow me.”

Kyle didn’t appreciate being man-handled by _anyone,_ and he would like to fight it, but any sort of scene would draw the table’s attention towards him, and he _would_ prefer to slide away without being noticed, if at all possible. They left the cafeteria and after a few turns, Kenny settled them down in an alcove between a staircase and a janitor's closet.

“They’re assholes,” Kenny said shortly. His brief way of being comforting.

Kyle nodded, and didn’t acknowledge the sting in his eyes; just took a bite of his sandwich and allowed the companionable silence to console him through the lunch hour.

It was one of the amazing features of Kenny McCormick; he could appear as silently as a mouse, assess a situation, and come up with a relatively painless solution. Sometimes Kyle felt like he was more suited to a superhero role than a random high-schooler role.

It was probably better like this though. If Kenny was an actual hero, the chances were he could die in the crossfire of some horribly South Park style shenanigan.

Come to think of it, Kyle probably ought to use his curse as a power and play vigilante. He didn’t carry the same risks as most other people.

The idea made images of his mother’s sagged face crawl from beneath the surface, and he dismissed it in its entirety.

Whether his mother was conscious of what happened to him or not, it clearly took a toll on her. He couldn’t put her through that. Not purposefully.

It was only after he left the alcove and bid goodbye to his quiet companion that it dawned on Kyle that Kenny hadn’t had a lunch.

\---

_Food was scarce in the kingdom even without the drought. What had previously been a matter of mere desperation escalated to mayhem._

_It would be dangerous to travel the streets in this condition but there was no other option. They had to find a way to lift the curse, and restore what was stolen._

_Even if it meant momentarily showing weakness to a hated enemy._

\---

“ _Fuck you, fattass_!”

“EY, like I would be caught dead in bed with a freak like you!”

The word hit a chord within Kyle that twanged painfully. It was just a typical fight with Cartman. It was the same old bullshit on the same old days in the same old world, and he shouldn’t allow himself to fall into this cycle, but he did. Endlessly.

Cartman had called him many horrible things over the years. Things he couldn’t even repeat due to how reprehensible they were in nature. Cartman wasn’t a good person and nothing he said should be taken seriously.

And yet, the moment the word freak had rolled off his tongue, something snapped inside Kyle. A primal growl burst from his throat and he jumped him.

His jaw hurt, his body was bruised and his fists were bloody with the intermixed blood of himself and his opponent by the time Stan pulled him away.

Kenny and Butters were restraining Cartman, who was still spitting insults no decent human being should ever learn.

Stan was trying to whisper something comforting to him, but he couldn’t hear it. Not really. There was the throb of blood pulsating in his ears and with a rage built over years and years of frustration he screamed his weakness to his mortal enemy.

“ _I’m not a freak_!”

And, as though the universe had heard his blatant lie and taken offense, a comet flew from the sky and knocked his head clean off.

\---

_Being prepared for the day as one with royal heritage was an experience. To the princess it was a daily chore she held no love for. Every morning without fail there would be a gentle knock at her door and in would come her trusted maidservant._

_Priceless fabrics layered on in increasingly complicated patterns while the maid tittered away, bright blue eyes alight with happiness._

_Today wasn’t going to be a kind day. The princess stared ahead fiercely. Today she would keep her end of the bargain with the Grand Wizard._

\---

“Hey, grandpa.”

“Hey, twerp.”

Ike settled in next to him on the coach. The TV echoed an old episode of ‘Flatulence in Canada’ but Kyle didn’t really see it.

He sat curled in front of the screen and wondered if staring into it long enough would allow him to escape into it. Maybe he could become a character who farted in the face of his problems. Or he could be farted on endlessly.

Nevermind, the latter option sounded too similar to his reality.

“Are you okay?” Ike asked, an unfamiliar tremor of concern lacing his voice.

Kyle shrugged. He didn’t have a better answer.

He didn’t want to worry Ike, but he didn’t want to answer either.

He wanted the world to wash away until all that was left was a fantasy; something he could hide behind. Something that could put an end to his pain.

He was so tired of the pain.

Ike’s hand curled around his, and it was trembling.

Kyle wished he didn’t cry. He wished he could have been the perfect strong older brother, who assured his brother everything was alright and nothing was horribly wrong.

Reality was different than the moving pictures on the TV, where a fart was the answer to all of life's woes, and the feel of his brother’s genuine concern broke the dam of emotions.

He couldn’t say how long he cried, curled in on the coach and clutching a smaller hand. Mostly because, like a child, he had cried himself to exhaustion and fallen asleep after a period of time.

It was mortifying, but Ike didn’t mention it the following day, just called him grandpa as usual and he tried to smile in response.

It didn’t meet his eyes, but neither of them commented on it.

\---

_The princess danced in the flowers. There were more than she could possibly hope for, a field across what should have been a barren land._

_She looked up with eyes full of joy and with arms full off a rainbows worth of colors._

_“Thank you.” Her voice was soft as an angel’s._

_It made his heart stutter with with guilt._

\---

Fantasy did offer something of an escape, he found. Brainless TV shows were nice and all, but books were more immersive for Kyle. He could entirely forget about circumstances revolving around his stupid curse and his shitty life for hours at a time while he read about knights gallivanting or astronauts claiming new frontiers.

It was a growing addiction. It was also nice because he didn’t have to pause books. If he died in the middle of one, he didn’t miss the season finale and get spoiled for every damn surprise therein before he had the opportunity to watch it himself.

Sometimes he’d have to buy himself a new copy of something, if pages became too covered in his own blood or ended up in a meat grinder with him, but all the same he could read at whatever pace best suited him.

And, as it turned out, Satan was something of a reader, so more often than not he could continue reading in the afterlife. So long as it was a novel Satan was willing to lend out.

The trouble with spending every waking moment of his life involved in the pages of a book was that deaths became a bit more frequent. Some attempts on his life that he would have normally been able to sidestep, he would walk straight into with his eyes never parting from the page.

Even the shadow of his cloaked companions felt less horrible while reading, so he reasoned this was a reasonable exchange.

Today, he was absorbed in the Zaron series when he walked straight into them.

“Look where you’re going!”

He did. It brought him face to face with a knife.

Ah, only he could run into a group of probably murderous muggers in a small town of less than 300 people. Typical.

“Give us your money!” A second one demanded, also wielding a sharp object.

Kyle weighed his options. They were going to kill him either way, that much was certain. Not particularly because they looked like the awful sort. Merely because even if they chose to spare his life, it was a matter of absolute fact that another would trip and stab him through the eye and _whoops,_ there went mercy. Wave goodbye to it as it goes.

“No,” he tested, he liked the answer. It suited his needs nicely and he didn’t feel like giving his allowance to a bunch of thugs. He needed that money to buy the next in this series. After all, in the chapter he was in, Kupa Keep was under siege and--

“Are you _daft_?! Give us your damn money, kid!” A knife pressed up against his throat, just to remind him they were serious.

Kyle sighed and snapped his book shut; no sense getting it covered in blood. “No.”

Whatever indignation he had to have earned with that response was terminated by a flash of orange.

Kyle blinked, taken aback as a caped figure took out the thugs one by one. It was like a scene straight out of an action flick, and it certainly didn’t belong in his reality. His reality was a continued circle of death followed by more death and another helping of death, just in case he wasn’t sick to his stomach yet.

But an arching and expertly aimed kick collided with one of the villains in the head, sending him spiraling away dramatically and the others simpering while running away.

The orange figure whirled to meet Kyle with a smile he was sure was made of actual sunshine. “Ya alright there, sweet cheeks?”

 _Sweetcheeks_?! Kyle didn’t have time to register how utterly awful the pet name was before his savior had knelt down and taken his hand smoothly. With a wink up at him he planted a soft kiss on the back of his knuckles.

“Babes like you should be at home safe around this hour,” the hero chided, still grinning but it was now intermixed with self-satisfaction, and Kyle realized with mounting horror his face was probably the color of his hair.

“I--” he squeaked, losing his voice in wonder.

People didn’t _rescue_ him. No one _rescued_ him. He was doomed to die at every turn, wasn’t he?

This only seemed to aid in the heroes efforts to look entirely too smug, “You?” he pressed.

Kyle gathered his book to his chest, snapping his hand away from the gloved one, and opening and closing his mouth multiple times.

Nothing seemed to want to come out, so he turned on his heel and made a mad dash to his house, a hearty and contagious laugh following him there.

Hearing the heroes laughter didn’t just make him want to join in, it made him want to turn back and see how the scene would play out.

His heart thudded against his ribcage and he could hardly be blamed for rushing to his room and slamming the door as soon as he reached his home.

What _was_ that?!

 _Who_ was that?!

He should have asked, why didn’t he ask!?

The back of his hand tingled and he looked in amazement at the place where lips had softly caressed his skin.

The battle in Kupa Keep could wait until morning. He dissolved to the ground and tried desperately to control the throbbing of his own heart.

\---

_The ground shook under the strain of loss. The kingdom would be left defenseless in the wake of this theft._

_Unforgivable. It was unforgivable._

_The staff was gone and there was only one whom the blame could be pointed to. The betrayal stung deeper with the knowledge of the past week, shaking the core of her being and knowing she had been nothing but a tool._

_A fire blazed beneath the surface of her heart._

_She would show them all what a tool could do, or burn up in the flames of her own determination. If this curse left her damned, she would drag each one down to the pit with her._

\---

 _Kyle found out that Mysterion_ was in the news somewhat regularly. Most of his heroic acts consisted of helping grannies cross roads, cracking terrible jokes at those who needed a good laugh, and picking up garbage.

He wasn’t what most people would consider a vigilante; just a guy in a costume who took care of the neighborhood. So far as Kyle could find not a single report mentioned him kissing hands and winking suggestively.

He wasn’t sure whether that was a relief or not.

“Mysterion is a menace!” Cartman hated Mysterion though, and that was enough of a reason for Kyle to support him.

Stan rolled his eyes. “You’ve said. Like everyday. For weeks. Maybe stop?”

Cartman glared and Stan didn’t bother to meet it, just turning to make a conversation with Butters about something different.

Kyle nibbled at his sandwich thoughtfully, “I think he’s pretty okay.”

Stan groaned, “Not you too, Kyle. Look, he’s a guy in bright colors and tights. That’s all there is to it, I’m pretty tired of this line of conversation.”

Kyle hadn’t been here for this to become a common line of conversation. On the days he wasn’t dead, he’d often skipped lunch with his friends in favor of a good book. Sometimes Kenny joined him, but that was the most company he’d had.

He couldn’t really focus on the fantasy world at the moment though. It was like the world had flooded with color and he couldn’t look away.

“I’m just saying that Cartman’s just a jealous sack of shit,” he said apathetically.

Cartman’s indignant cry and following insults didn’t register because he was looking over to Kenny.

No lunch again.

The boy didn’t seem to mind though. In fact, he looked uncharacteristically cheerful. Normally the bickering would cause him to lean away or even move tables altogether. At the moment, he had the tiniest of smiles edging up his lips as he jotted something down in a notebook.

Kenny always fiddled with something or another during lunch. It distracted from the lack of food in front of him.

Did anyone else notice? Did Kenny just eat his lunch early? Or late? Or perhaps Kyle had been thinking too much into it and he just hadn’t noticed when his friend had eaten?

“Oi! Are you listening, you jewrat?!”

Kyle’s temper flared and he returned to the argument with Cartman. He had probably wasted actual years of his life repeating the same iteration of ‘don’t belittle my people’ and whatever following enraged speech was applicable to the situation.

His heart wasn’t in this one; his mind was stuck on Kenny’s little smile.

It was a nice smile.

\---

_The forest was all that masked her presence. There he was, without a remnant of guilt for his crimes. It would be a simple task--_

**Eyes watch you.**

_\--a simple task to--_

**You are ours.**

_\--to take--_

**Give in. There is no escape.**

He closed the book.

\---

The dream was stronger this time.

This could have been for any number of reasons, Kyle hadn’t been overtly negative of late and perhaps the worlds within his own mind felt the need to balance the scales. It was vivid in a way he hadn’t felt since he was a small child.

A simple explanation was that he was home alone. The dreams always seemed more powerful when there was no one but himself in the house.

 _“You’re trying to slip away.”_ The eldritch voice filled with rage and it shook Kyle to his core. Fear resounded to the deepest part of his heart.

But he knew how he was supposed to respond, “It’s _my_ life.”

 _You’re ours_.

They hadn’t spoken that one. They’d written it into reality, and he felt it burned into his soul.

He rejected the brand, gnashing his teeth at the shadows. “No.”

They roared at his defiance, something took hold of his ankle, attempting to drag him into the shadow.

He kept his feet planted, the searing pain in his ankle ricocheting throughout his entire body in response.

He couldn’t let himself be pulled into the darkness. He had to escape. Go where they couldn’t find him.

“Never.”

Something whipped from the darkness, sharp and aimed straight for him.

A screeching noise tore him from the nightmare, jolting awake and feeling his chest for where he was surely run through.

His heart refused to calm down, even after repeated reminders that there was no danger, and dreams weren’t real.

There was a shadow on his window and he fell out of his bed in fearful surprise.

Only to register it was orange with a sheepish smile.

Kyle tore open the window, enraged. “What the fuck are you doing outside my window?!” He hissed.

“You were screaming.”

Kyle blinked, mind reeling to the screeching from earlier. His throat _did_ feel sore.

His brows still furrowed. “And you were close enough to hear because…”

Mysterion shrugged and gestured to the bad side of town, just beyond the tracks. “I was working nearby. I thought it might have been a home invasion.”

Seemed plausible enough, Kyle supposed, but he still held onto to some suspicions. After all, this flirtatious asshole had _kissed his hand_ before. There was no telling what his devious mind was concocting.

Mysterion, seemingly a thoughtless ball of cheer, more or less bounced into the room without consent, and picked up a book from his desk.

“You were reading this last time, is it any good?”

Kyle snatched it back with a glare. “Why else would I be reading it. And who said you could come into my room?”

Mysterion shrugged with a devil-may-care grin, and sat himself at the desk. “I think you could use the company.”

Kyle went rigid, clutching his book as if it would protect him. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, I should think if anyone else was here the screams would have attracted them,” Mysterion pointed out, holding up a finger, “and considering you’re alone and dressed for bed, it was probably some night terror level bullshit,” he ticked off another finger, “and also, most importantly, I’m utterly weak to cute redheads in pajamas.” He winked, a completely smarmy grin on his lips.

Kyle cried indignantly, and threw the book at his head. Mysterion caught it with those same reflexes he’d showcased previously.

Who _was_ this guy?! Who did he think he was?

“I’m going to think you’re a stalker at this rate,” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “this is the second time you’ve shown up out of nowhere and made suggestive remarks.”

The grin grew _goofy_ in nature and Kyle found he couldn’t help but track the patterns to those upturned lips. “What can I say? It must be fate drawing us together.”

“That’s even more suspicious,” Kyle said, sitting on his bed in a huff.

It was probably safe. Mysterion was _probably_ harmless. At least, if the situation did turn fatal, Kyle didn’t really have anything to fear.

“I’m a man of mystery!” Mysterion said, flipping open a random page and reading, “ _The king spat in rage, the idignit--_ ”

“Stop!” Kyle cried, “I haven’t gotten there yet!”

Mysterion blinked, stopping obediently. “It’s less than halfway through. Thought you might have finished this one already,” he admitted, looking properly abashed.

Kyle opened his mouth to snap about orange clad heroes being a bit too distracting for him to focus on reading, but he thought better of it, clamping his mouth shut into a firm line.

“It’s cool, dude. You don’t gotta explain yourself. Unless ya wanna, I mean.”

“You’re a menace,” Kyle groused, pulling a pillow to his chest.

He was grateful for the company. His ankle still burned as though the creature had never released it.

Which was absurd. Nothing could hold onto you after you’d left the realm of dreams, right?

Mysterion twirled in the spinning chair, only stopping to lean against the back of it with a leer, “But am I _your_ menace?”

Damnit. That was almost smooth. He was not giving this guy another win though. He shrugged, his best attempt at nonchalance. “A menace in general. I hear you’re not all that popular with some teens.”

“Who cares about some teens when the best one is sitting in front of me?”

God. Damn. Shit. Fuck. Kyle felt the warmth build in his face, he strived for composure, scoffing unconvincingly. “On what scale is that being judged?”

There were Mysterion’s fingers again, proudly waggling as he prepared another list. “Best ass, best books, killer stare, cute voice, _and_ ,” he twirled dramatically, extending the word until he slowed, “a fierce attitude that could make anyone swoon.” To illustrate his point, the masked man swooned backwards dramatically, almost falling off the chair. “Altogether, I’d rate you a thirty out of ten.”

Kyle snorted, this boy was completely ridiculous and it was impossible not to fall into step. “ _Only_ thirty? I’m insulted. Why not higher?”

He’d clearly walked into a trap by the way Mysterion’s eyes lit with mischievous joy, “You lost points for not already being in my arms.”

Kyle choked, about ready to tear the pillow he was clutching to shreds out of sheer nerves. Mysterion waited patiently for him to catch his breath, truly the cat who caught the canary.

“Excuse _you_ ,” Kyle pointed shakily, “I’m at least a ninety out of ten without a single addition of orange monstrosity.” It was all bravado, but he was at a loss for how else he could respond.

Mysterion considered this seriously, “You make a fair point. Let’s call you an even hundred out of ten, but considering I’m only a piddly twenty out of ten, I’m in desperate need of you to heighten my own appeal.”

This time Kyle had to release a truly ugly laugh, full of the sorts of snorts and giggles you’d want to avoid showing the public, but there was only so much he could take of this.

“So together we’d make a hundred and twenty?” he giggled out, trying, and failing, to straighten out his expression.

“Nope.” Mysterion popped the _p_ before sitting cross legged on the damn chair like a heathen. “We’d be a solid two thousand.”

“Okay, I’ll bite, how does that math figure?”

Mysterion shook his finger chidingly. “Only makes sense! With the way I want our limbs to intermingle, it’ll definitely make a multiplication sign.”

This was too much for Kyle, he sent the pillow sailing at the winking smooth bastard, with the dirty mouth, the terrible humor, and the stupidly cute smile. When his first pillow assault only resulted in more giggles, Kyle sent another one, ready to strip his bed of the sheets and strangle the invader to death if that was what it would take to rid him of the burn inside him.

“You’re a _menace_!” he accused again, crawling over to the chair and kicking it into a spin.

Apparently Mysterion took that as an invitation to abandon ship, because he pounced from his perch onto the bed and squished Kyle down. Giggles still rattled his chest, which was currently being used to crush Kyle’s face, and was much more fit than Kyle really wanted it to be noticing at this moment, all things considered.

The giggles died down, but Mysterion didn’t move. Heavy breathing accompanied with a racing heartbeat.

“Can I be your menace though?” There was something so strangely sincere in the repeated words that it tore at Kyle’s heartstrings.

“I don’t know who you are,” Kyle breathed, quietly enough so that he could continue listening to the heart.

It skipped uneasily, and Mysterion propped himself up on his elbows to look at Kyle’s face.

He lost himself momentarily in the heart-shaking emotion in Mysterion’s eyes. He wasn’t even aware people could put such strong emotion into the shimmering of such a simple tool for sight.

But he could see himself reflected in Mysterion’s eyes, and the emotion was heavy. Heavier than just a brief meeting and rescue should have allowed. There was a promise of emotion so clear and passionate Kyle completely forgot how to breathe.

“Don’t you?” Mysterion asked, something raw in his voice that was almost familiar. Kyle shook his head weakly, not trusting his voice.

Mysterion smiled a touch sadly and rested his forehead on Kyle’s. “That’s okay.”

It sounded more like he was convincing himself than Kyle.

Kyle mentally catalogued everyone he knew with blue eyes, and found a surprising number of people in his life had the color.

“If you don’t know though,” Mysterion spoke softly, eyes closed, “why did you let me in?”

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “You let yourself in.”

Mysterion cracked open an eye, mirth echoing in the mesmerizing twinkle within. “We both know you could have thrown me out at any minute.”

Debateable, considering how well Mysterion had handled the thugs, but Kyle could concede the point. Aside from tossing harmless objects, he’d allowed the masked man to stay without hesitation.

“Would you believe it’s because I’m not scared of you?”

“It’s the orange, isn’t it?” Mysterion bemoaned defensively, “It’s not remotely menacing but if you’re going to trapeze around after dark, wearing bright colors seriously decreases your chances of getting hit by cars.”

Kyle laughed, biting the inside of his cheek. “Yeah. It’s the orange.”

There was a pause in Mysterion’s antics, and his eyes swam with curiosity as he looked down at Kyle. “Hmm, that’s not the reason, is it?”

It took Kyle completely aback. He wasn’t used to people noticing his deflection, aside from Stan, but those were usually the tense moments of a fight where no answer would do.

“It’s not,” Kyle agreed.

“I don’t get to know why?”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Maybe it’s because you’re the twenty that I need.”

Mysterion bit his lip, and the position they were in suddenly became a more pressing issue in Kyle’s mind, trepidation and anticipation fighting for dominance in his own mind.

“Good to know you accept the truth,” Mysterion said a bit awkwardly, and Kyle knew it had to be getting to him too.

It was like a strange game of red-light green-light but neither of them knew where the lights were or which color meant what.

Kyle had a feeling he could give a green-light, and have himself an experience of what a multiplication symbol even translated to in bed. He could give a red-light and have some much needed space put between the two of them.

But instead he hovered at yellow, neither truly encouraging nor discouraging the advance of what very well could be a stranger or a stalker.

He felt comfortable though, he couldn’t put a name to the behavior or attitude, but the atmosphere around him eased him in a way he couldn’t put a label to.

He’d long since forgotten the sensation wrapped around his ankle, replaced by the explosion of never ending emotion that lit his world.

“You should get some sleep,” Mysterion said thickly, not moving an inch.

Kyle nodded, and tried to memorize the gentle curve of the man’s face, “I should.”

“Should I leave?”

Kyle shrugged, knowing the answer but unwilling to say it.

He wanted to say something wild and impulsive instead, escape from the nightmare of his life into this new fantasy. Reach under the orange hood and run his hands through the hair hidden beneath. Kiss him breathless and take a victory lap at managing to do so.

The look in Mysterion’s eyes didn’t exactly imply he would argue with any of that.

“That’s not a real answer,” Mysterion said, and Kyle didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered down to Kyle’s lips.

“It isn’t,” Kyle agreed, reveling in the frustration that sparkled in those eyes.

He could probably watch the emotions reflected in them for the rest of his life.

Kyle didn’t get the opportunity because Mysterion closed them away behind his lids, and sat up. It was suddenly much more cold and lonely, despite Mysterion still sitting at the edge of his bed.

“Well,” Mysterion smiled but it didn’t quite meet his eyes, “tell ya what, Broflovski, if you can tell me my name, I’ll come up with an answer for ya.”

“What are you, Rumpelstiltskin?”

That got the glimmer of amusement to shine again, Kyle sighed in relief.

“Should I give you the ability to weave straw to gold then?”

“Nah, I’d rather keep my first born, thanks. Otherwise my mom would kill us both.”

Mysterion laughed heartily standing up, and to Kyle’s complete surprise, proceeding to tuck him into bed, finding the discarded pillows and tugging the blanket over him.

“I’m not a child,” Kyle frowned, but something in him felt appeased. Spoiled. Warm. Loved.

“Believe me,” Mysterion smirked, “I would not think about a child the way I think of you.”

Did he _have_ to make it sound that dirty?

Mysterion returned to his seat on the desk chair, and Kyle felt relief at that; he didn’t want to be alone in the house again.

“Do I at least get a hint, Rumpelstiltskin?” He was never going to sleep with the way his heart was jackhammering against his ribs.

“Hmmm…” Mysterion tapped his chin thoughtfully, “I’m adorable. And sexy. Adorasexy.”

Kyle had to actually bite back _I already knew that_. Mysterion’s grin suggested he noticed it, too. Bastard.

“That’s a terrible hint,” Kyle grumbled.

Mysterion hummed noncommittedly, but the sound of it was actually more attention grabbing than anything else.

It was _good_. Really good.

The sound continued, softly blanketing the room in a gentle melody. Kyle’s eyelids felt heavy and before he knew it, he’d entered a blissfully dreamless sleep.

\--

Stan wasn’t acting any different this morning, and his attentions seemed solely focused on Testaburger, so Kyle was at least mostly sure his best friend wasn’t the blue eyed bastard who had pried his way into Kyle’s every waking thought.

Butters looked a _little_ nervous this morning, but Kyle just had a very hard time believing the boy had a smooth bone in his body. Much less enough strength to take out several armed men.

“What are you looking at everyone for, fag?” Cartman sidled up next to him nastily and Kyle rolled his eyes, landing on Craig Tucker who had blue eyes focused on his phone as he walked.

“None of your business, fatass.”

Cartman made an unmemorable retort but Kyle brushed it off, not willing to be pulled into their normal cycle.

He had _way_ more important things on his mind.

Apparently, in Cartman’s book, there was nothing worse in the world than being ignored, and he looked genuinely hurt at Kyle’s dismissal.

Damn, he should have done that way sooner.

There was Kenny, walking down the hall hidden in his purple parka with a heavy frown and a flip phone in hand. His eyes were blue, weren’t they?

Kenny didn’t look up as he walked past though, and Kyle found the idea a bit absurd. If he nominated someone as taciturn as Kenny, he may as well have Craig at the top of the suspect list.

It seemed like there was an endless amount of blue eyed students he could add to the list. It felt like every time he looked up, he’d find someone else he hadn’t even realized had the color. Jason had taken him completely by surprise when he’d noticed the blues across a classroom, and Bradley had almost made him jump.

Bridon got him during basketball practice, and when the day had concluded and he thought he finally had made note of all possible suspects, he noticed Pip in the parking lot.

It was a distressingly long list.

‘Adorasexy’ wasn’t helpful in the least. For starters, those sorts of things are entirely subjective! He could throw up his hands in despair over it all.

“What has you on edge all day?” Stan asked, leaning in to peak at the list. Kyle shoved it into his pocket hurriedly, and turned to his best friend.

It couldn’t be Stan, right? That would just be awkward.

He decided to test it out, just in case, to see he could at least knock a name off the list, “You’re not adorasexy, are you?”

Stan furrowed his brows in complete confusion. “Sure?”

Kyle sighed and plopped down on the steps in front of the school, letting Stan follow suit.

“Well that’s one good thing, I guess.” except it wasn’t. Just knocking off one name didn’t get him any closer to getting to the bottom of this, and he just _had_ to.

“Okay?” Stan said, unsure.

Why exactly did he have to? Kyle pursed his lips, unable to come up with a reason that could adequately satisfy the logical side of his brain.

“I’m trying to work something out,” Kyle said.

Stan pulled out his phone and absently opened up an app game. “Work away, dude. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

“How generous,” Kyle monotoned.

“I’m a saint,” Stan returned, and let himself become absorbed in whatever ridiculous quest the stupid freemium game was sending him on.

Kyle sighed and looked up. It was a nice cloudy sky and he had no solution.

But he had a best friend, and he wasn’t dead today. He’d count the small wins, and then rearrange his list by most likely to least likely once he got home. After that, he could just approach each one until he struck gold.

Simple. Straightforward. He liked it.

Now if only there wasn’t something ominous dancing at the corner of his vision.

\---

Kenny still didn’t have lunch. Kyle was sure by this point in time it wasn’t his imagination. He couldn’t name the last time he’d seen the guy eat.

Impulsively, he broke his sandwich in half and held it out to him.

Kenny blinked, the comic book he’d been fiddling with closing on accident. “Yes?”

Kyle narrowed his eyes, and held out the sandwich more pointedly. He hadn’t been sleeping well and he didn’t have the patience to make an argument.

Kenny took it uncertainly, nervously looking at the other parties at the table. No one was paying them any attention.

“Eat,” Kyle commanded.

“Okay?” Kenny said, nibbling a bit, “Why, exactly?”

Kyle shrugged. “Because I said so.”

Kenny mirrored the gesture, and ate the rest of the sandwich without complaint.

In that split second, Kyle realized he couldn’t remember ever seeing Kenny eat. It was distinctive, because he had to pull down the front of his signature parka in order to uncover his mouth.

He was going to bring a whole sandwich for Kenny tomorrow. He hadn’t the foggiest idea why the idiot was starving himself, but it wasn’t healthy, and he wasn’t going to allow it.

With satisfaction, he resumed his book.

He really wanted to get to the end before he saw Mysterion next. Just to make sure he couldn’t be teased over it.

\--

The dreams came more and more frequently. They normally only appeared around his deaths, so he’d assumed it to be some sort of side effect of crossing back from the other world.

But within a week of the night terror where he’d woken up screaming, he went from once around a death to nearly every single night.

By the two week mark it _was_ every night.

The intensity varied. In some, he was merely stared at by the shadows. In others, he felt his every limb burn as they demanded he submit.

He had to hide.

He couldn’t find a place that could be considered safe. His bedroom began to only reflect the shadows he saw every time he closed his eyes.

It was at the three week mark that he decided against sleep.

He’d given up on finding Mysterion, the hardly touched list resting on his desk.

He’d given up finishing the book, fearful that the darkness would find its way to crawl into his only fantasy.

He made it to and from school, but only just. The only action he’d been able to continue consistently was bringing a sandwich for Kenny.

Taciturn bastard could learn how to say thank you, though. He spent all his time carefully not mentioning the issue and just eating silently.

People were starting to get worried.

He would rest better if he didn’t sleep at all.

He sat in his bed, wrapped in blankets, and prayed for his eyes to remain open.

A gentle rap on his window startled him into full wakefulness after he’d almost entirely drifted off.

He groggily took in the color orange, and couldn’t even feel relief.

He needed to escape.

He unlatched the window to see Mysterion’s face pinched with concern, hands reaching out to cup Kyle’s face before he’d even fully entered the room. “What’s wrong?”

 _What isn’t wrong_? He couldn’t voice the words, just shook his head helplessly.

He couldn’t sleep and he couldn’t escape.

Mysterion pulled him into a hug, the motion shocking a gasp out of him.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an honest to god hug.

He found himself clinging to the fabric of Mysterion’s costume, breathing in a scent that was strangely familiar and melting into comforting arms. They were warm, strong, but most importantly; they held him like he was precious.

He wanted to be precious to someone. Perhaps his preoccupation with Mysterion was only that; an obsession with feeling needed. Feeling loved.

He couldn’t say. He just needed to hold onto the moment for as long as time would allow.

“What’s wrong?” Mysterion repeated, as though he had every intention of fighting away whatever it was.

Some things couldn’t be fought.

He needed to hide.

He shook his head and buried it in Mysterion’s shoulder.

“It’ll be okay.” Mysterion’s voice held a promise he couldn’t possibly keep, but Kyle clung to it. He wanted to believe in it.

He could feel the dark things growing closer and closer as the days went by. He felt like the next time he died they would be directly upon him.

He needed to find an escape first.

“I’ve got you.” The arms tightened around his waist, clinging to him like he was scared Kyle would vanish. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Kyle wished it were that simple.

He wished he could look up, suddenly have an epiphany about the heroe’s name, call it dramatically under the moonlight, and share a intense kiss that chased away every shadow.

“Stay with me?” he spoke into the shoulder, weakly, “Please?”

Mysterion nodded.

He hummed softly, never letting go even as they slid to the ground. Holding onto him until Kyle drifted away to sleep and apparently tucking him again before Kyle woke up.

He stared at the ceiling and marveled at how the sound of that gentle hum could chase away the nightmares.

It couldn’t chase away the gnawing sensation in his stomach that there was no escape, though. The knowledge that it was only a matter of time before they were directly upon him.

“Don’t go…” Kyle asked the ceiling, fists clenched under the blankets even as the morning light poured in.

His eyes flitted to the book resting on his desk, and he dragged himself out of bed. They wouldn’t be able to find him if he were in Kupa Keep. If only such a thing were possible.

Kyle flipped open the book to a random page and tried to focus on the contents. A fanciful world of magic, battles, elves, and heroic characters.

If he were there, he could stave off the eldritch beasts with magic and maybe even achieve freedom from the horrible cycle of life and death dictating the entirety of his life.

If he were in a book, he could make the rules.

He wasn’t.

He closed the book and tried to focus on preparing himself for the day, but his eyes caught sight of his list of blue eyed suspects.

Three more names were crossed off.

A smile spilled across his cheeks unbidden. What an unbelievable dork; if he’s that impatient he ought to just come clean.

It did seem like a much more manageable number now, though. Only about ten names.

He prepared for the day, contemplating who it was and, just a bit, who he wanted it to be.

\---

It had been a month since he last died, and that alone was giving him anxiety. It was becoming clear even to the likes of Butters that he wasn’t sleeping.

“Aw, gee, Kyle. You don’t look so good.”

“You think?” Kyle snapped, causing the blond to flinch back. “Back off, Butters.”

Kenny frowned at him, Stan pinched his nose in disapproval, Cartman was thankfully not present.

“I was jus’ worried is all…” Butters mumbled, closing in on himself. “Ya don’t needa go snappin’ at me like that. It’s rude, is what that is.” The last part was muttered so quietly Kyle could barely hear it, but he still found it agitating.

“Well, worry about someone else!” He stood up from the table, unwilling to apologize and unwilling to remain in the cafeteria.

His legs found the alcove he normally shared with Kenny before he even realized it, and he sank down.

He would die any day now, and then something awful would happen.

What would there be? Would it be his last death? Would it just lead him into the arms of creatures he couldn’t even understand?

He pulled out the novel, flipping to a random page and hoping to ease his nerves.

The elf king was declaring something about an unforgivable slight. Uppity bastard was always upset over something.

Kyle curled in on himself. It wasn’t Butters’ fault.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Well, it might be the terrors of his dreams that were to blame, but he would struggle to define them as an ‘any _one_ ’. They fit much more smoothly in the category of ‘any _thing’_.

Why wasn’t there anywhere safe?

Even now, edging from the corner of his vision, he could feel them watching. Always, always, always...

A creaking overhead drew his attention away from the pages.

It was a quick one, so far as deaths went.

Being crushed to death was never pleasant, but the falling bits of ceiling hit with lethal accuracy.

He had the time to look at his blood seeping into the novel.

He never learned how it ended.

He never found out Mysterion’s identity.

He didn’t even apologize to poor Butters.

He could feel the tendrils wrapping around him, promising an eternity of darkness, burning into his flesh and attempting to drag him away.

He dug his nails into the pages, frustrated tears burning his eyes.

“No. You can’t take me.”

Why wasn’t there anywhere he could hide?

“I won’t go.”

He grit his teeth and with every bit of his remaining might, attempted to run away.

Logically, he understood he couldn’t be running. He was under faulty school-bits, something intangible claiming him, and bleeding to death.

His lungs had been crushed. He wasn’t breathing.

But he ran. As fast and as hard as he possibly could, snapping free of the bonds that restrained him.

Until his eyes shot open.

He didn’t remember closing them.

He stared blankly at the canopy of soft purple fabrics above him.

That couldn’t be right; his room or a hospital were about the only options for him to wake up, if he did at all.

He couldn’t feel the trace of the burning on his limbs either. They were gone.

He closed his eyes in relief. Perhaps he’d been a touch over dramatic. They were just night-terrors after all. It made sense he would have a few, he’d died in so many excruciating ways over the years.

Yeah.

That had to be it.

Kyle’s eyes shot open again, very awake, and now even more alarmed. The night terrors did _nothing_ to explain what he was seeing. He sat up, eyes darting around the unfamiliar room in growing horror.

This was nothing like what he was expecting. The furnishings were worthy of a goddamn palace, if not a bit strange. Anxiety built inside him, and his eyes darted to the door as a gentle knock was heard.

“Your Highness, may I come in?”

Kyle took a steadying breath, realized that no amount of breathing would be able to steady him under the circumstances, and made a squeak of affirmation.He watched as a servant girl--oh, god, she looked every part a servant girl--entered the room with a soft smile.

“G’morning, Princess.” she curtsied. “Do you need any help this morning?”

Kyle held up a hand in the universal gesture for _time out_. The maid only looked puzzled by it.

Another not-so-steadying intake of air.

“Princess?” he asked the servant, straining.

She nodded, looking at him in bewilderment.

Instinctively, Kyle’s hands shot to his chest and he heaved a sigh of relief when he felt the same flat, masculine upper body he’d come to expect from himself, given his entire lifetime with it.

He did feel hair though. A lot of it. Picking up a strand he had the vague feeling it was his. It felt like his; frizzy and impossible curls interlocking in a way that was sure to break even the most determined of hair brushes. But this wasn’t short. Or shoulder length.

He was pretty sure it went down to his waist.

“Um… your majesty? Are you alright?”

“Just… dandy…” Kyle managed.

Well, the only possible explanation was that he had somehow lived through the accident, and he was in a bizarre coma dream. Yep. That made sense.

He didn’t even want to consider the other options.

“Do you need any assistance preparing for the day? The grand wizard has requested your attendance in a meeting.”

Something about the question rang familiar to him, and he was momentarily struck with the need to remember where he’d heard it, had he heard it before.

Also, grand wizard? What, had his shitty coma decided to cram him into the ridiculous novel… he… was… reading...?

He looked back to the maid; she certainly fit the appearance described in the novel, “Leslie?” he tried, hoping he was wrong.

She nodded, still looking at him wearily but unwilling to repeat her inquiries for fear of upsetting her ‘betters’.

Oh god damnit.

“I’m not doing this,” Kyle declared, pulling out of bed and noting that, yes, he was wearing a rather elaborate and feminine nightgown, “if this is a fucking coma I ain’t gonna meet the damn wizard to discuss his treachery.”

The novel was entertaining, but the villain had been fairly obvious since chapter one, and he was _not_ going to spend however long he was stuck in a coma attempting to do deal with the shitty political minutiae that the grand wizard used to manipulate the princess.

He froze at the door, mind a million miles away from his startled maid’s cries.

He was _the princess_ . The character who was _doomed for tragedy_.

Oh god fucking damnit.

He stormed out of the room, Leslie’s feet pattering after him. He had to get out of this entire _kingdom_ , it was only a matter of time before the drought and then there would be the raid on Kupa Keep and the assassination attempt… Kyle suddenly found his previous enjoyment of the novel torn down significantly by the knowledge that he had to _live_ the events.

“Princess, I must insist you dress, there are foreign ambassadors and--”

Kyle stormed through the hall and around a corner, smack dab into someone walking the other direction.

Kyle had a policy when he bumped into people. Push back first, ask questions later.

 _“Your Majesty!”_ “Your Highness!” Two sets of voices echoed, and Kyle looked at the man he’d sent sprawling to the ground.

And took him in again.

And again.

He was vaguely aware that the man’s entourage were giving him mixed looks of horror.

“...Kenny?”

The man looked up, revealing pointed ears as a guard helped him to his feet and, oh, that was a crown.

The Elf King knitted his brows at him, trying to undo a puzzle beyond Kyle’s incomprehension and finally spoke.

“Who is this naked woman?”

“I’m not naked!”

Leslie rushed forward, carrying a truly impressive amount of cloth and pushing Kyle backwards with them, lowering her head apologetically to all those of higher status.

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” Leslie tittered, terror running across her features and Kyle vaguely remembered a throwaway line in the book about disrespecting royalty being a capital offense, “Her Highness, the princess is feeling ill this morning. We will depart immediately.”

That had all eyes shooting to hairlines, and Kyle sneered at them, resisting the backwards push he got from Leslie.

This was a dumb dream, and he wasn’t going to be pushed around in his own stupid dream. “I’m not feeling ill, I’m getting the fuck out of this shit-hole. Move it, assholes.”

Maybe trying to forcefully push past a king directly in front of his royal guard wasn’t Kyle’s _brightest_ idea ever. But really, he was technically a princess, they ought to think twice before pointing weapons at him.

The Elf King held up a hand for them to lower them, something sparkling in his eyes as he looked at Kyle.

Wow, he’d gone and given Kenny Mysterion’s eye sparkles in his stupid dream. Freud must be having a hardy laugh in his grave, like the pile of dicks he was.

“Sorry to disturb your morning, Princess.” He bent over and, oh god, déjà vu. There was Kenny all dolled up like an elf king and kissing his hand.

This was the most embarrassing dream he’d ever had.

Kenny looked up meaningfully from his knelt position, eyes alight with curious delight. “I hope we meet again soon.”

Kyle did the only sane thing a person could really do given the circumstances.

He tore his hand away, screamed _fuck you, Freud!_ And took off down the hallway and away from the sheer horrific embarrassment of actually _dreaming_ that.

How blatant could he _get_?

He burst through door after door, but aside from startled servants and other well-dressed guests, he found nothing. No exit. Just a _maze_ of a castle. How many rooms were there in here, anyway? It was ridiculous.

He found an empty room and let his tired legs crumpled under him.

Strange. He didn’t normally get tired or out of breath in dreams. Were coma dreams more realistic?

“I’m dreaming,” he promised himself, leaning heavily against the door for fear someone might enter, “please tell me I’m dreaming.”

He could feel the tingle of the kiss against his knuckles, identical to when Mysterion had done the same.

That was it. He remembered it so strongly that he had fooled his neurons into firing, and his dream was full of sensations, smells, and utter clarity because his neurons were going crazy.

He wasn’t normally a lucid dreamer either.

“This is a coma though…” he said, curling his legs to his chest to ease the doubt filling him, “comas are supposed to be different, right?”

Kyle pinched himself.

He pinched himself harder.

After a third and ultimately most painful pinch, he rested his head in his hands.

“This can’t be real,” he reasoned, books were fantasy, “but it might not be a coma.”

Was Satan toying with a new form of psychological torture? Or had he wound up in a limbo that reflected his innermost thoughts in the most embarrassing of possible settings?

He could still see Kenny’s eyes boring into his own, intense and meaningful and dancing with mischief.

How bad would it be if he played along with the dream? Just for awhile?

Sure, it was every level of embarrassing, but he probably wasn’t going to get eaten by a giant turkey here. And no one could see his own dream but him, right? So by that reasoning, it wouldn’t be all _that_ bad to indulge a little.

Play pretend and finally feel safe.

After all, he couldn’t feel their crawling gazes. He didn’t have the burn of their touch. He was free here.

Something flopped in his stomach.

There was a knock on the door and Leslie’s exasperated voice spoke, “Princess, are you in here?”

How the hell had the twerp _found_ him? Weren’t lucid dreams supposed to work how _he_ wanted them to.

“No,” he responded petulantly, drawing his knees closer to his chest. Leslie sighed and he could hear her slide down the other end of the door.

“You know I’m always on your side, right?” she spoke softly, “if there’s something wrong, you can trust me.”

He could open the door, let himself get dolled up in a giant ridiculous princess get-up, go to the peace summit, and maybe see about making some of his dreams a reality… so to speak.

It was the safety he’d longed for. The perfect escape.

Who cared who Mysterion _really_ was? He could play pretend in a world of his own devising.

A world where Kenny smiled brightly and winked at him. A world where he already knew the elf king’s backstory, so any level of mysterious nonsense had flown out the window.

He sighed; there was no sense hiding in this room regardless. Whether it was a dream or something even more bizarre, he wouldn’t get anywhere hiding in an empty room.

He obediently followed Leslie back to his quarters.

\---

Summits were boring. Princess dresses were uncomfortable. The Grand Wizard was _Cartman_ because _of course_ his brain would cast Cartman as the primary villain in the novel.

Kyle escaped the moment he had the opportunity, pointedly avoiding any look the Elf King sent his way, and had Leslie guide him to the gardens. She led him up countless flights of stairs, assuring him that the roof garden was the most beautiful at this time of day.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Your Highness?” she asked timidly as they walked. “You’ve been so strange all morning. I worry about you.”

He nodded absently. He almost felt bad for the fictional maid, she was trying _so hard_ to support him.

He wasn’t about to spill his guts to a figment of his imagination though. He had _standards_.

“Here we are,” she leaned closer to whisper in his ear, “I had a word with the Elf King’s servant while you were in the meeting.” She winked and pushed him forward, causing him to nearly stumble into the garden.

Oh, there was Kenny again.

Wow. His own brain was trying to be his wingman. He shot her an agitated look, promising recompense for her crimes. If he was an _actual_ princess he would have her flogged or something.

Okay, not really, but maybe he’d have her muck the stables or something really gross.

“Fancy seeing you again so soon, Princess.” His eyes twinkled and Kyle had to pause in order to really appreciate how nice it was to hear Kenny’s voice clearly.

It sounded like Mysterion’s voice.

He’d really gone and melded the two into one for his own self-satisfaction, hadn’t he?

“Sure.” He crossed his arms over his chest grouchily, keeping a safe distance away from the hand kissing menace.

Worry flickered in his expression. “If I’m bothering you, I can go.” He sounded so mournful at the thought but Kyle knew he would leave if asked.

How bad would it be if he indulged? It wasn’t like reality would ever offer him such a beautiful garden to frame that nervous look on Kenny’s face.

Fuck. He couldn’t tell him off like this.

“Do as you’d like.” Kyle threw up his hands into the air, sitting down on a bench with a huff, and refusing to look at Kenny as he followed suit.

“Have I done something to upset you?” His voice was so soft and a hand reached out to brush a strand of hair from his face.

Since when was Kenny so tacitile? Kyle stiffened.

He could see Leslie in the corner of the gardens, excitedly glancing over and conversing with another servant.

He could see Kenny in his peripheral, heart in his eyes and attempting to barge his way in.

He could feel the sun overhead, and the sounds of the birds cheerfully singing the tune of a new romance.

“You’ve been on my mind since I saw you,” Kenny spoke, and it was so _cheesy_.

Kyle turned to look him in the eyes and his heart clenched. It was the same easy game of red-light green-light, and this round could have no possible repercussions if he indulged.

Kenny’s hand held his cheek gently, his thumb caressed Kyle’s skin and something exploded in his stomach.

It wasn’t butterflies.

Kyle pushed him away with all his strength and stumbled to his feet, regretting the princess dress for the millionth time.

“ _No_!”

Hurt was everywhere in Kenny’s face, still stationary on the ground as Kyle glared down at him.

“I’m sorry to ha--”

“Shut the _fuck_ up!” Kyle plucked the crown Leslie had delicately placed on his head and threw it at Kenny full force, backing away. “I want out of this fucking dream, right now.”

“Princess,” Kenny made his way to his feet, but Kyle continued to glare down at him, “this isn’t a dream, are you perhaps still feeling unwell?”

Kyle considered this.

Talking to anyone around here was like talking to an NPC in a fucking video game.

Well, he wasn’t going to have any of that.

“I am feeling unwell.” Kyle’s lip curled up. “So I’m getting the fuck out.”

“Princess...?”

Kyle ran towards the ledge and before a single one of them could stop him, he jumped over it.

He’d only taken his own life once. He’d regretted it deeply afterwards, an intense guilt and regret eating at him about how much trouble he’d caused.

Now he sailed through the air waiting for the ground to hit him and prepared for his second suicide with clenched teeth.

He was stopped mid air.

He blinked and behind his eyelids the scenery _changed_ and for a moment, it wasn’t that he couldn’t feel their grip on him, it was that _every inch of him was being held_.

He nearly screamed at the horrible pain, but it faded the moment his eyes opened again. He was wrapped in magic and there was the Wizard King trotting up and holding up a staff saving him from peril.

Kyle ground his teeth.

“Let me drop, Cartman.”

“Surely, not!”

He was lowered to the ground, gently hugged in the warmth of a delicate magic. From above he could hear the cries of Leslie and the Elf King.

“Don’t ruin this for me, Princess,” Cartman snarled when he was close enough, “Remember our deal? You’re supposed to be seducing the Elf King.”’

Kyle measured his response carefully.

He leaned down purposefully, removed one adorable jewel encrusted slipper from his own foot, made his way to his feet, and offered Cartman his sweetest smile.

“Prin--?”

He then proceeded to beat the shit out of him with his shoe.

“ _Ah_ ! Someone get this crazy bitch off of me!” Cartman cried, losing his staff in the scuffle and barely blocking his face from the barrage. “Guards, _guards_! Restrain the princess!”

\---

A night in the cells really gave you perspective on things. For starters, there was a surprising lack of items to kill oneself with. Kyle had always sort of assumed that dungeons were dangerous places.

Or perhaps he just wasn’t creative enough. He stared down at wooden bench and tried to think of a way to maneuver it into a death weapon.

He needed out of this place.

Real, fake, dreamed, something about it was so incredibly _tempting_. A beautiful reprieve, an escape. And if Kyle yielded to it, he would choose to stay here forever.

There was the faintest sensation in the back of his mind telling him he might not have a choice in the matter.

Ha! Jokes on them. No one and nothing took away his ability to choose.

There was a jingle behind him and Kyle turned around. Bright and early, there was the fatass and Kyle’s own personal servant here to relieve him of custody.

“Have you calmed down, _Princess_?”

Kyle smiled, and the sight caused Cartman to flinch away; a truly satisfying reaction. “Yes. I have reflected on my actions and I believe I wasn’t in my right mind yesterday. It’s okay, I will resume my duties today.”

Cartman eyed him with suspicion and Kyle had to admit, his cheerful tone _may_ have been a bit much.

“So long as you’ve learned…” Cartman opened the cage, gesturing to Leslie. “Get her cleaned up and toss her back to the stupid elf bastard.”

Leslie nodded and despite himself, Kyle felt a bit betrayed. He’d been somewhat under the impression she was doing it on _his_ behest.

He couldn’t even trust figments of his own imagination, apparently.

Kyle followed her silently back to the bedroom, picking straw from his hair.

“Why did you jump?” Leslie’s voice sounded hollow, eyes staring fixedly ahead. “All you had to do was kiss him. He was yours.”

“I didn’t want to,” Kyle lied.

“You want _him_ though, don’t you?”

“No.” Kyle blinked, surprised at the truth there. “I don’t.”

Because Kenny hid behind his hood, and Kyle hadn’t earned the sight of seeing it pulled back yet.

Because Mysterion might or might not be Kenny, but it wasn’t fair to hinge his feelings on that particular aspect this early on.

Because the Elf King was handsome and flirtatious and a dream come to life, but none of it was earned. The Elf King seemed enamored with him at first sight, because that was how the story was supposed to go. Because he was supposed to fall in love, because that’s just how these stories _go_.

Kyle wasn’t a tool for a storie’s convenience. And neither was Kenny.

He glared ahead at Leslie’s stiffening back.

“Why are you like this?” Her voice was low and eldritch.

Kyle took a startled step backwards but he couldn’t. He was restrained. They had him. They’d taken him. They _had_ him, and all he could see was the eternal abyss of their intent gazes--

And he was looking at Leslie’s back again, her face turned to look at him quizzically. “Are you alright?”

There was no sign of the darkness. Everything was soft and protected.

Kyle clenched his fists.

He made up his mind.

“Fine. I want to have lunch with the Elf King. Arrange it.”

She smiled and it hardly looked human for a moment.

The more this reality flickered, the more it weakened.

\---

“Princess!” Kenny rushed forward and pulled him into his arms, terror causing a tremor to run through him. “I thought my heart would stop when you jumped!”

“Neat,” Kyle replied. The NPC was sure to keep gabbing about eternal love regardless, and Kyle would be lying if he didn’t enjoy Kenny looking up at him with such utterly starstruck eyes and a voice full of warmth.

He didn’t have time to enjoy it though. Time was one of those awful commodities that needed to be spent getting shit done. He stomped over to the table as soon as he was able to wrench himself out of those warm, inviting arms and plopped down, gesturing a confused king to do the same.

Kyle did a quick once-over of the table and smiled sincerely.

Excellent. All according to plan.

He looked back up to Kenny and something tugged at his heart strings.

It was just a figment of his imagination brought to life in an elaborate trap. Everything he could want personified in the ultimate temptation. The cheese on a mouse trap, begging for him to have just one nibble before it _snapped_ on him.

But Kyle still longed to ask questions he wouldn’t otherwise get answers to.

“What exactly do you even like about me?”

Kenny’s face _shone,_ and it was bright enough to make sunflowers bloom. “What isn’t to like? Your passion, your determination, your kindness--you’re amazing.”

No good. It was exactly what he _wanted_ to hear.

That was why this world made him so ill-at-ease. He only needed to want for something, and it would occur. There were limitations, death was apparently against the rules, and there was a preoccupation with getting him to _accept_ it all.

Like he was being sweet-talked into signing a contract without being allowed the time to review the fine print.

Kyle hummed in response, reaching for his utensils and nonchalantly picking at his food. “Do you want to know a secret?”

The Elf King leaned forward eagerly, decoram lost behind a mischievous need to learn more about his lady love.

“I have a crush on Kenny McCormick.” He twirled his fork, delicately using a knife to slice away some meat. “I haven’t told anyone. Even myself. Want to know something else?”

“Yes?”

Kyle tightened his grip on the fork. “I _am_ passionate and determined. That wouldn’t be that much of a problem but, unfortunately, you’re in my way.”

He lurched forward, daring not to look at what he was doing. He saw red. He heard screams. He felt his body being torn away from the scene.

Echoes of an empty abyss surrounded by the their gazes and the pristine room flickered endlessly, nearly paralyzing him in the agonizing pain it caused to shoot through him.

He continued his assault, the warm sticky sensation of blood coating this world and the one beyond.

His body longed to stop under the pressure of the pain, his mind screamed with the dissonance of such a horrific act.

He steeled himself.

Not yet. He promised, the sick sensation of life departed by his own hands tearing away as he heard eldritch screams, and stabbed himself in the heart in one final act of defiance, before collapsing on the still warm body of the Elf King.

“Why…?” the Elf King gurgled out, betrayed. Servants were screaming. The _creatures_ were screaming.

Kyle laughed, and he must have nicked his lung because, wow, that was an experience. “Safety is overrated.”

“You could have had everything you want.” There was the echoe of a monster replacing the clear timbre of Kenny’s voice.

“Sure.” Kyle shrugged and motion was so painful. “But I learned something today…”

The scene began to retreat and Kyle felt his death taking hold, dragging him away from their hold and their reach.

“...I’m really picky.”

\---

Kyle awoke to the sound of his mother’s tears. He chanced a look at her hunched figure by his bed, cradling his hand.

“Mom…?” he croaked.

“You were gone for so long, Bubbie.” Her shoulders shook uncontrollably. “I thought--I thought…” she couldn’t finish speaking, lost in more cries.

He’d once been dead for over a month. He dreaded to learn how long this round had been.

He dreaded a lot of things.

He sat up and leaned forward to pull her into a hug.

She gasped, and it was only natural. They weren’t a terribly tacitile family, and he hadn’t hugged his mother like this since he was a small child.

“I’m sorry, mum.” He buried his head into her ridiculous hair, eternally grateful that his own had returned to a reasonable length. “I got a bit lost. I’ll always come home though, you know that, right?”

He felt his own tears before he realized he was even going to cry, but in the early dawn, he cried with his mother.

\---

Each new step on the concrete was enunciated with a small victory.

He watched his one feet move forward, evenly paced and sure of their direction. Behind him, he could feel the crawling sensation of things watching and waiting for a weakness. A chink in his armor.

He continued to stride forward. He had a great many people to visit, apologize to, and find peace with. Also, he wanted very much to kick Cartman right in the dick. Maybe he’d do it more than once, just for good measure.

Kyle looked away from the shadows he cast on the ground. He was home. Home wasn’t safe, and it was sure that a car might just speed into the sidewalk this instant, if only to reassure him of his place in the world.

He clenched his fists. He wouldn’t let something as meaninglessly stupid as death stop him or break him. Never.

He would never choose the easy answer, and he was damn proud of it.

He was walking past the park when he spotted a familiar shade of purple out of the corner of his eye.

Sure enough, there was Kenny. Kyle smiled ruefully. He supposed it saved him the effort of trying to find Kenny’s mysteriously concealed home address. It felt far too stalkerish to even consider if he was honest.

There was a younger girl with medium brown hair being pushed on a swing.

Kenny looked happy, speaking in low tones to the girl and head held high.

He was _real_. It was Kenny. Not an imagined farce of a person. Kyle felt a certain thrill at the knowledge, even as he approached.

“Hey,” he said, taking a particular joy in the way he caused Kenny to jump out of his skin.

It wasn’t often he was able to sneak up on the other boy.

The girl also noticed, twisting in her seat to get a look.

“Who are you?” she asked, and her voice was soft. There was a large purple bruise on her cheek.

Kyle’s eyes darted to Kenny and back to the girl. “I’m Kyle, Kenny’s friend.” Should he acknowledge the bruise? Neither of them seemed to mind it, but it weighed on him.

Her eyes lit up, and it was such a familiar brand of blue. Brightly shining with happy emotions. Kyle had the desire to pinch himself, but the offset of crooked teeth in her smile assured him of reality.

“Kyle! So _you’re_ Kyle!” There was such a distinct tone to it. Kyle raised an eyebrow at the still silent boy who really ought to have made the introductions.

Her hand shot out as she pulled herself from the swing, all bouncy happiness. “I’m Karen! Kenny’s little sister!” Her elbow collided with Kenny’s stomach pointedly. “Stop gaping,” she chided.

Kenny nodded and shifted from foot to foot, still not speaking even a single word. He wasn’t looking at Kyle, either, anywhere but in fact. His sister, the swings, a bush, Kyle’s shoes.

Kyle didn’t think he’d ever seen the other boy this nervous in his entire life.

“You’re back,” Kenny said finally, and looked up, expression open in a way Kyle had never seen previously.

Or at the very least, he’d never seen so open on _Kenny_ . Something _clicked_ into place like a puzzle piece, and he felt stupid for denying it.

He also had a significant amount of trouble finding breath for a full five seconds. A terrible affliction for any youth attempting to find words in a windswept mind.

Kyle’s mouth felt dry. “Yeah.”

“It was a while.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Are you staying?” There was something _raw_ in the words.

He didn’t have an answer. Not one anyone wanted to hear.

Kyle shrugged, and Kenny’s eyes fell away.

It was a shame for them to disappear from view. So much so that Kyle had to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying something to that degree.

“Well, this is awkward,” Karen pointed out tactlessly. It was so guilless and blunt that Kyle couldn’t resist chuckling a little.

The sound was apparently enough to attract Kenny’s attention again.

“ _I_ \--” He stopped himself, but his expression did a lot more speaking than his voice possibly could.

Kyle’s stomach did a backflip, and then proceeded to tap dance a rather complicated number to the beat of a rather cheesy pop song.

“Yeah?”

Kenny looked to his sister and held out a hand, which she took without hesitation. “We’re heading home. I’ll see you later, Kyle.”

 _Coward_. Kyle frowned, biting back the word and giving a weak wave. “Later.”

Kenny nodded and walked with his sister, who appeared to be giving him a hissed scolding.

Kyle stood alone in the park, and tried to reason the entire situation in his mind. The gnawing _doubt_ of hopeful thinking attempting to claw back against the _certainty_ beginning to form in his mind.

\---

He’d missed the rest of the semester. And a good deal of summer break.

Death was a bitch.

He didn’t even want to think about how he was going to try catching up in school. Stan had been huffy that he’d _gone to see family in Jersey_ for so long without even bothering to say goodbye.

It was the same old fight, but Kyle was almost grateful to have it. He’d lost so much time, but in the same way, the time he’d spent in the dream felt like a horrible eternity.

He actually felt like he’d made out pretty good on time.

He expected the knock on his window for once. He was waiting on his desk chair and spinning absently when the orange clad idiot finally wanted to be let in.

“It’s open,” he called, still spinning.

Mysterion clambered in, face awash with worry and it swept over Kyle all at once.

 _Real_ . This was real. Mysterion was _really_ there.

Kyle strained under the need to smile.

“Ah, Rumplestiltskin.” He stopped moving, entertaining his fingers beneath his chin, “What brings you here?”

“You were gone, Kyle.” The voice was pinched with terror. “I looked--everywhere, you weren’t--you were _gone_.”

Hm. That’s interesting.

There were definitely butterflies now. Similar to the ones at the park, and yet, softer, dancing to a gentler melody.

“You looked…?” His voice sounded small, even to him.

He was used to people getting angry at him for disappearing.

Not _looking_ for him.

“Of course I did.” Mysterion closed the distance between them, fists clenched at his sides as he stared down at Kyle. “Kyle, I--” He pulled the bloodied novel from somewhere in his costume. “I found this, Kyle is this _your_ blood?”

Kyle took the book carefully and noted it was entirely ruined. “Could be,” He murmured.

“ _How_? Kyle, what happened?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.” Mysterion stamped down stubbornly. “Kyle, where did you…”

There was a severity in Mysterion’s face that didn’t suit him at all. It was far more reminiscent of a melancholy boy in purple. Calculating and firm.

It was enough to sweep away uncertainty.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Kyle answered. And with consideration to some of the more mortifying aspects of it, not something he would say even if it would be believed.

“ _Try me_ .” Mysterion’s voice was lower than it had ever been, desperation dancing with agitation with the demand. “You weren’t in Jersey, no matter what your mom said, and you weren’t here. What _happened_?”

This wasn’t a conversation Kyle was ready to have. “Leave it alone.”

There was a different conversation he _did_ want to have, and he wasn’t going to have it derailed by the bullshit that haunted his every moment in life.

“ _Kyle_.” Mysterion looked like he wanted to shake him silly but dared not reach forward to touch. Instead his fists clenched and unclenched in frustration. “Why is the book covered in your blood? Why--”

Kyle held up a finger, silencing Mysterion with the gesture, or maybe it was the way he glared up in defiant determination. He knew he had a certain knack for silencing people with a glare.

There was something more important than a stupid book that he had to confirm.

“Before that, we have unfinished business.” He plucked the list from his desk with a self satisfied flourish. Picking up a pencil as well, Kyle stood. Ah, it was definitely nice to catch Mysterion by surprise. The hero took a startled half-step backwards.

“Wha--this isn’t the time to--”

Kyle cut him off, “Definitely not Craig.” He crossed the name off, dramatically moving his pencil down. “He’d have flipped me off by now.”

“Are you really going to do this now?” Mysterion’s voice was getting weaker as something nervous edged in.

See how he liked a conversation he wasn’t ready for being shoved on him, Kyle huffed.

“Butters?” He compared their heights with a hand gesture, calculating the near foot Butters had on him and the inches he had on Mysterion, completely too dramatically. “Too short. I think _not_.”

He went down the list and took a special joy in the way Mysterion protested uncomfortably, shifting from one foot to another in a way he’d seen much too recently.

“Hmm, Kenny?” Kyle looked up and, oh, it was a special joy to see the embarrassed flush of red flood Mysterion’s face. He didn’t even have a word of protest prepared.

Kyle did another measurement while humming, “Heights about right.” He squinted at Mysterion’s eyes. “Shade of blue checks out.” He did a full up-down look of Mysterion and then to a picture he had on his desk, containing all of his friends. “Adorasexy as well.”

Mysterion _choked_. It was the best sound Kyle had heard in a long time.

“It does seem to be the last name on my list, too.” Kyle said, tapping his pencil to the page before taking a step forward, closing the space between them.

Mysterion was frozen, eyes blown wide with panic at the sudden proximity.

“Should I check?” The air crackled at the words and he received no response from the stunned boy.

Kyle reached out and pulled down the hood to reveal messy blond locks. Mysterion made no effort to resist, but the did finally seem to remember he was supposed to be moving his lungs in order to breathe.

Strange how moments like these where a person could feel so alive stole breath away.

Mysterion’s eyes were full of his heart in that _distinct_ way the horror terrors would never be able to fully replicate. They weren’t the perfect sparkling gems of an Elf King in his majesty, they were the full force of a cornucopia of emotion, fragile and hopeful.

“Nah,” Kyle said, leaning forward to rest his forehead on Kenny’s, “couldn’t be Kenny.”

“You’re an ass,” Kenny muttered, allowing Kyle to pull away his mask.

“What makes you like me, then?” Kyle asked, and it was perhaps too much to ask of his shattered nerves. He’d barely been able to hide his own shaking but asking such a bold question of the real deal was a bit much.

Kenny grinned up at him, and it was an awkward mixture of Mysterion’s cheerful mischief and Kenny’s stoic half smiles.

Maybe it couldn’t make sunflowers bloom, but it made Kyle’s heart surge with warmth.

“You’re an ass,” he repeated with absolute certainty.

Yep. Kyle knew he’d made the right decision. He leaned in and took Kenny’s lips in a terribly awkward kiss that resulted in clinking teeth.

Kenny laughed, “Not quite hollywood.” He sounded a bit breathless again though.

Kyle smiled, “I liked it.” His own voice also had that fairaway sound of being lost in another person. It was completely embarrassing to hear.

Kenny swallowed thickly and reached up to cup Kyle’s face. “We could try again.”

It would be a serious challenge to name who leaned in this time, but when they connected again, it was a more careful, slow affair.

The sensation took his heart away, and he had to wonder if it was actually healthy for a heart to throb so loudly that it was the only thing he could hear. He also couldn’t help but need to be closer. He could stay wrapped in the moment forever. Kenny’s lips moved against his own, testing and hesitant. Kyle matched it, mind having taken a brief vacation to a la la land of repeated delighted cries.

He wanted to touch. Be closer.

Kyle wrapped his arms around Kenny, smiling into the kiss when it earned him a gasp. Score one.

Then Kenny had to ruin the whole affair by pinching his ass. Bastard.

Kyle pulled away to glare at the all too mischievous expression of a boy trying to catch his breath.

“I will throw you out of my room.”

“You wouldn’t dare, I’m adorasexy. You said so, no take-backs.”

Kyle smiled thoughtfully, “Well, one of those things is true.”

He was really starting to enjoy how easy it was to get pink dancing across Kenny’s cheeks. He was pretty sure his own face was somewhere in the range of a tomato, but it was nice to know he wasn’t alone.

There was a special joy in knowing he’d gotten under the normally stoic boy’s skin.

“Are you going to tell me where you went?”

Ah.

He wondered if Kenny would believe him if he explained everything. Crazy as it all sounded, all of the weird shit that made up his life and the eternal question of _what_ he was. He wondered if maybe they could find a solution together or work it all out.

“Not now,” Kyle murmured. He wasn’t ready yet. He didn’t know if he could be.

He prepared for the fight, the argument, a reflection of the same one he’d had with Stan not even a few hours earlier.

Kenny’s mouth opened and he could hear unspoken protests before it shut again, and Kenny studied his face.

There was something uncanny in the way Kenny could read people, Kyle wasn’t even sure what was being read, but he felt entirely seen through in those moments.

Finally, Kenny nodded with something like understanding in his eyes, and Kyle had to marvel over it.

He needed this patience and kindness. He didn’t know if he deserved it.

“Thank you.” His voice actually cracked and he had to look away to hide the embarrassment.

Kenny’s hands rose again and grazed his cheek, the slightest tremble in the motion. “It’s okay.”

Maybe it wasn’t. The thought was enough to bring new terrors bubbling to the surface but he looked back to Kenny’s open expression.

“Maybe tell me before, next time?” Kenny tried.

Kyle shook his head weakly.

“Okay.”

And that was it.

Kyle hugged Kenny closer to him and hid his face in his shoulder, and it was really impossible not to tell that Kenny trembled a bit too much over touch.

Kyle’s own questions bubbled up, thoughts veering back to the bruise on Karen’s cheek, Kenny’s extremely limited wardrobe, lack of lunches, and obsessively secretive nature.

He swallowed them for another time.

“Do you want me to let go?” he asked instead.

Kenny’s hands shot out to hold onto Kyle while his head shook furiously.

“Okay.”

Darkness edged around him, but it would likely always be there.

There were questions he wasn’t ready to give answers to. And answers Kenny probably wasn’t ready to provide, either.

There was always the chance that this entire scene in his life would be ruined by a heart attack or a stray bullet, and he would bleed out while Kenny did nothing but declare the gods bastards.

The world wasn’t easy, and each day was something like being hit by a truck.

He held onto Kenny, and reveled in the warmth there.

Shit would get hard and temptations would arise.

But he sure as fuck wouldn’t give in to it. Like hell he would give the world the satisfaction.

 


End file.
